Whatever It Takes
by AngelsEternityXOXO
Summary: Their upperclassmen had supported them, and they disappointed them by losing. All they had left was the support of each other. [Slight!TakaMido. Also please be aware that there are spoilers for those not caught up in the manga!]


******Fandom:** Kuroko no Basket  
******Rating:** K+  
******Pairing:** _Slight!_TakaMido**  
****Warning:** OOC, angst, **_spoilers for those who are not caught up in the manga!_  
A/N:** Ohhhh goodness, I don't... I don't really know. I read Q183 and my heart! AHH I just really adore TakaMido so much, but this doesn't focus on them, really. It's more based on their partnership BUT OH WELL. I'm just relieved I finished this because now I can focus on my AoKi fic hehehe. I... apologize if I butcher any characters. Or if it begins to sound redundant. I- I don't know. I'm not really confident in my writing skills at all; I just write for fun. Anyways do enjoy! Thank you, and please review. It makes me incredibly happy to see what people think of my work! ヾ( °▽° )ノ  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kuroko no Basket. It purely belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi-sensei! Oh gosh, this is an awesome manga/anime and I just- ahhh I love it so much. Fujimaki-sensei is just unbelievable :)  
**Dedication:** To my BB, Banri-boo, for supporting me all the time with my writing! I love you! And please check her out! She's a fellow writer here on as well, under the name "Banri" :)

**Enjoy!**

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**Whatever It Takes**

They had done everything to win.

Their hopes, their goals, their _dreams_, all shattered into a dark abyss as the time buzzed to zero, signalling that the fourth quarter was over. The game was finished. The stadium grew silent—though various cheers and screams were all over the court, for a certain team, only the sound of utter defeat and loss rang in their ears.

The numbers on the score board only brought sorrow to their eyes.

_86 – 70_.

With their shoulders hung low, sweat trickling down their faces, Shutoku approached the center line where their opponents – the champions – Rakuzan, stood before them. Unconsciously, their hands moved to shake Rakuzan's players, as a form of congratulations; as a form of gratitude for the match. But even as they mumbled the horrid words of _"thank you for the game"_, their hearts were empty and hollow.

The loss had the largest impact on a certain shooting guard. Midorima Shintarou kept his eyes focused on the ground, shutting them tightly as he clenched his fists. He refused to cry. He never cried. Crying was for the weak and he was definitely not weak.

_Stay strong, Shintarou. Strong. You can do it, come on. It was just a game. Calm…_

"Midorima, come on."

As the team headed towards their respected locker room, the green-haired shooting guard felt the hand of his upperclassman on his shoulder. He often did not like people touching him. In fact, it made him incredibly uncomfortable, but this- this was reassuring and comforting. For a second, his heart relaxed, the darkness seemed to turn brighter but then he felt it. The hand rested on his shoulder began to tremble; soft, gentle sobs were heard behind him, and Midorima could not help but squeeze his eyes even harder.

_Calm…_

If he had only tried harder, if he could have countered Akashi, if only-

"_**You won't reach."**_

Suddenly, the male stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened at the recollection of Akashi's words during the last second of the game—when he failed to stop Akashi from shooting the basketball into the hoop. If only he had jumped faster, higher, could he have stopped it?

"Shin-chan…?" His partner, Takao Kazunari, approached him cautiously, the tears on the edges of his eyes were visible, but for some reason, the closer he came, the blurrier he became in Midorima's vision.

That was when he felt it—the tears. At first, he thought it was just the sweat dripping down his face but then the uncontrollable sobs began to leave his mouth. No, not now- he could not cry now. Not with his team right in front of him. This was not the Midorima Shintarou they were used to seeing. He had to run, run away from them before he becomes a sobbing mess of-

He felt the weight of a heavy hand on the top of his head, and glanced up into the red, teary eyes of their captain, Ootsubo Taisuke. Before he could say anything, the captain shook his head, motioning him forward towards their room, "You don't need to stay strong. We all played well, and I'm incredibly proud of both you and Takao. Without the two of you, we may have suffered a humiliating match. As your teammate and captain, I thank you."

Midorima's green orbs widened once again, the tears forming on the edges as he did not even attempt to wipe them away this time. All his upperclassmen looked at him with a look of gratitude – as well as a genuine smile on their faces, despite the tears.

To hear the words of his captain, to see the smiles of his teammates' faces, to have played such an important match with this team—he was grateful.

A few days passed, but the disheartened feeling in Midorima's chest was still present from the match. He never did attend the final match of the Winter Cup, or even the re-match between Seirin and Kaijou. None of the members from Shutoku attended the final matches of the Winter Cup; it was far too depressing.

Shortly after, the seniors resigned from the club, focusing on their studies now that basketball season was over, but Ootsubo had left the rest of the members with encouraging and thoughtful words. Similar to what he had said to Midorima the day they lost, he, with strong confidence, stood amongst the younger members, while the other graduating upperclassmen were behind him. He left them with powerful words of wisdom, hoping they would continue to work hard and next year, learn from their mistakes and take home the championship.

"_**We will redeem ourselves as kings, and succeed. I believe in you all. The rest of the seniors and I could not have gotten this far without all your help."**_

At that time, he had looked directly at Midorima and Takao, who were at the very back of the team, still quite devastated at the loss. Being the only two freshmen and remaining regulars, the two felt like they had disappointed their upperclassmen, their team, their school. After all, even after all their hard work, their upperclassmen had not won the Winter Cup, leaving the goals they set for their graduating year unaccomplished.

Midorima gritted his teeth, his fists clenched tightly to the point where it was beginning to turn white. He had to focus his attention somewhere else, anywhere but his upperclassmen. It was the first time he ever felt this way—this deep connection towards a team. He still played with the same attitude from middle school; the arrogant, horoscope-obsessed, three-pointer shooting guard. But for some odd reason, coming to study and being a part of this club impacted and changed him completely.

No longer was he the individual who only believed in himself; who thought relying on a team was for the weak. Perhaps Kuroko and Kise were beginning to rub off on him. He hated to admit it, but this feeling was pleasant; it was something he missed in middle school at Teikou, but here, looking at his team, they had grown on him. At first, he thought they were all weak, holding him back from his full potential. But then he noticed the amount of practice and work they all put in; the passion and love they had for this particular sport; the motivation and common goals that brought them all together.

Then it made him feel horrible. Yes, _the_ Midorima Shintarou actually regretted calling them weak; calling them fools; calling them unskilled basketball players. Looking back at it now, it was unsightly of him.

He wished his upperclassmen were not graduating. This year, the games, the late night practices, the bickering and threats from both Miyaji and Kimura, he would miss it all. The empty feeling in his heart reflected his emotions—_loneliness, failure, sadness_...

He believed that, given another year, this team could beat all the schools—Seirin, Kaijou, Touou, Yousen, even Rakuzan. But it had to be with the same regulars as this year; he wanted to win with Ootsubo, Miyaji, and Kimura. The three seniors had impeccable talent and skills that brought the team the numerous victories this past year. Without them, it wouldn't be the same anymore.

The meeting was dismissed then. The seniors resigning their positions in the club and the coach said next week, practice would be resumed once again. As the gymnasium began to clear, the five regulars exchanged words, with Ootsubo, being the strong, supportive leader they all respected, shaking the hands of Takao and Midorima.

They watched as the three former regulars left their line of vision, with Takao waving at their backs; his usual smile on his face. Once the room was consisted only of the two partners, Takao turned to face the grass-haired male, but was speechless at the image in front of him.

Midorima had his eyes squeezed tight, as if trying to contain the horrible droplets of sadness and disappointment from falling down his face. Takao could see it; the clenched fists, the strained expression, the trembling shoulders, and it made his heart churn. He hated seeing his partner like this; this disheartened and frail.

He never wanted to see him like this. Despite all the pain and hard labour he was put through, Takao enjoyed staying by Midorima's side. He was intelligent, talented, handsome, and amusing in so many ways. Though he was obsessed with horoscopes and sometimes it drove him crazy, Midorima Shintarou brought him joy and laughter every day. To see him like this, so devastated and hollow, it made Takao sick in the stomach.

"Hey... Shin-chan?"

There was no reply, but Takao knew the male was listening; he noticed the stiffness in his body, in his shoulders, even in his fists.

Slowly, quietly, he approached him, grabbing a certain round object abandoned on the court and held it out to his partner. "Next year, we will beat them. Akashi, and the rest of those monsters."

Again, silence.

"Like Seirin, we will become Shutoku's 'light' and 'shadow'. I will become stronger, Shin-chan, so that my skills can complement yours to the fullest. We will defeat them."

There was sudden weight on the ball now; a bandaged hand on top of the ball. They will grow stronger; they will improve their techniques and develop skills that will become unstoppable. But still, the taller male's shoulders began to waver, and then Takao noticed small, tiny droplets fall to the floor. A frown replaced the grin on his face as his heart twisted and turned against his chest.

In the end, he still could not comfort this fragile boy. Next year—next year, he refused to let him suffer through this pain again. His free hand balled into a tight fist, as he bit his bottom lip, vowing to accomplish his goal.

_I will improve, Shin-chan. So please, just stop crying._

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_**` fin.**_


End file.
